A Ship's Tale (27 page)

Harris stowed the handset. “So now we're going to make a course correction. Where the devil is Bowman?” he asked impatiently.

“In his cabin, I assume,” I said. “But now that you come to mention it, I haven't seen him for a while myself.” We started down the companionway and along the passage to find the captain's door shut. Harris beat upon it with his fist.

“For God's sake!” said Bowman inside, “do ye think ye could beat on it any harder?”

“Not without breaking something, Uncle Billy. It's time for you to come up on deck. We're about to make a course change.”

“Ah, right! I'll be there directly.”

We went back up to the bridge deck and found Boris still in charge of the huge double wheel. It was so tall that there was a step built to raise the helmsman so that he could stand easily with his arms stretched sidewise just below shoulder height. There was another step on the other side so a second man could be added when the weather got rough. There was also a foot brake to help slow down the wild turning of the wheel during heavy weather.

While we waited for Bowman, Harris went into the chart room to speak to Edward about the exact heading. At the moment, we were heading away from the Essex shore as fast as we could go. Once we were far enough east to clear the Kentish coast, we needed to turn due south and head down through the Straits of Dover.

Bowman reached the top of the companionway and walked down the deck like his usual self. However stoutly he carried himself, I felt he was putting on an act and was actually in pain. Having learnt the new course from Edward, he gave the order to prepare to change course onto the other tack. This was going to test our boys and I could hear them chatting excitedly.

“Wouldn't Mr. O'Connell just die to see us now?” said one of the boys.

“Yes,” said another. “All this time he thought it was a class in history.”

The boys started laughing. One put his hand up on the guardrail quickly as his shoe slipped, and Boris scolded him, as much of a scolding as Boris was ever committed to giving.

“You boys pay attention! Down there, Big Splat! Over there, Big Splash! Doesn't matter, we can't stop and find you. It takes long time to turn about, and who knows what fish swim these waters?” he lectured. The boys eyed each other sheepishly for a moment and then set to their work with a more serious attitude.

Several blasts of the bo'sun's pipe sent one watch to brace the upper yards round, while the other watch manned the brace winches for the lower. We'd been travelling since noon with the wind abaft the port quarter. Now we were going to swing with the wind through an arc of ninety degrees, racing against the turn and brace the yards round, so that the sails would start to belly out again from the wind now blowing across the starboard quarter.

Everyone knew his station. Boris had prepared them well.

Harris sang out, “Let's do it!”

A couple more blasts on the pipe and the large yards started to turn slowly. Robert was at the wheel with Boris, alternately helping and then going off to check on the boys manning braces and buntlines. The ship seemed to hang there for a long time before she came round onto the new heading, heeling low over the water before the helmsman caught and centred the wheel. Now we were well and truly on our way. Having seen the operation through, Harris and I went back to the radio ready to report the
Grouse
as us, or rather to report an unknown sailing vessel sighted about eleven hundred hours near our “scuttling position,” heading due north.

Bowman was beside himself with an almost unholy joy. He kept walking up and down saying good, good, very good! to everyone and rubbing his hands together.

He stopped to talk to me. “I can just see it, ye know. If they send anyone out to try and locate that ship, they'll probably follow her for miles, and all the while,” he laughed hard and long, “they'll be trying to call her using the
Bonnie
Clyde
's frequency and she won't answer because she's the
Grouse
. The best part of the joke is we'll be able to hear all that's going on. If they do manage to get close enough to read her name or try to question anyone aboard, the
Grouse
is just an innocent bystander.” He roared with laughter and went on, “I'd dearly love to see the faces of those Whitehall twits when the news comes through.” And off he went still smiling, which certainly made a difference to his earlier dour expression.

This was the first time I'd seen Bowman and Edward acting in tandem. That, in itself, was a major accomplishment. I wasn't certain how long that would last, given their previous history together. I always found it amazing that each of them could have such high respect for one another and yet fall into such bitter disagreements. For now they seemed perfectly satisfied to agree. I wasn't about to say or do anything that might jeopardise this accord.

Robert was now at the helm. Harris and I made our way onto the bridge deck with him. The ship seemed truly alive and pushed on as if there was no end to where she might go. The sails held firm, bellied out to catch all the wind available. The breeze lessened to where we were doing ten to twelve knots. It was cold, but it was the sort of night when one felt the fulfilment of the day.

I had a score to settle with Harris. I was tired of being treated as though I was some untrustworthy child. Today had been a last straw! I'd known nothing about the fight until the last minute, much less about the magnet, and I knew nothing about the
Grouse
. Yet I was supposed to take an active part in this whole enterprise.

“Now Harris,” I began, “I want to know now what other little arrangements you have up your sleeve. I'm sick and tired of your ‘all things in good time.' I want to know the rest of the story.”

He paused and considered this and then replied, “Bowman and I decided from the beginning that the less people know, the more likely we would succeed. We knew quite well there were too many who would talk after a few pints, not to mention others who might be tempted to tell a girlfriend a thing or two.” I started to protest, but then thought better of it. “However, there's one thing left. It's an unknowing decoy to give the Whitehall idiots a range of choices. It's the
Willow
. She's a four-masted barque, one of those that took part in the last great race from Australia in 1938 under a different name. She's a training ship now out of Gothenburg, and according to Bob, she's travelling between the North Sea and the Channel to give the apprentices some wet weather experience. She looks enough like us at a distance to be reported. And report her we will. All we need is enough time to muster distance if a pursuit starts.”

The sails began making heavy flapping noises as the bow fell slightly, which Robert quickly adjusted.

Harris said, “This is just what we needed. We'll pick up a few more knots as soon as the wind increases and be farther away before they make the discovery. If they wait until the tug turns up, then we'll have an unbeatable head start. The trick with the magnet should ensure that the tug won't find its way home until mid-morning tomorrow.”

“That's if it works,” I remarked.

“No reason why it shouldn't,” Harris went on, “There'd be no reason for the tug captain to doubt anything was wrong until he was in sight of land. Then he couldn't be deceived any longer by what he originally thought were the right landmarks. I suppose the skew we put on the compass will bring him somewhere between Clacton and Harwich, which is far enough north for him to probably not know the landmarks. He's damned sure to notice how much time it took for him to get nowhere! It'll be right about dark by then. Having to heave to till morning will just set his arse on fire. Well, there you have it. Have you any more questions now, Mr. Must-Know-Now-Instead-of-In-Good-Time? Time is here, time has come, and time is passing away,” he roared. “Let's get some work done, even if we have to pull this lady all the way to Scotland!”

“And to that,” I said, “some of us need sleep. If we don't get it, we start doing funny things like falling over and walking sideways. I suggest we call it a day and get some sleep so we will live to fight another day, like tomorrow!”

Harris gave me a sidelong grin. He went to the chart room to go over some things with Edward. This probably meant more arguments over the course we were to take, and I was just as glad not to include myself in the discussion.

I made my way down to the galley where I found Katherine sitting and nursing a mug of tea.

“Long day,” I began, “I don't think I've ever had one this exciting.”

“You never cease to amaze me, Flynn,” she said, giving me a hug.

“But I think if I don't get some sleep, I'll surely fall on my face,” I whispered.

We headed for the officers' quarters, and I kissed her once more at her door, then entered my cabin slowly sliding the door closed behind me. I wonder when it is that I shall awake peacefully, with a cup of tea placed just to hand and the chance to contemplate a long slow day with little of urgency in it. Not this morning anyway.

I was awakened by the sounds of a hundred squawking seagulls, before I realised it was only the boys gathering in the well deck, standing around chattering. I sat up, still in my clothes of the night before when I'd fallen on the bunk and gone out like a light. A quick shave and a light wash at the corner basin made me feel more alive. I could still hear the sound of the boys' voices and went out to join them. I decided to get to know some of my fellow crew members. After all, these were the ones we'd have to rely on for the voyage.

“How long have you been at sea, Mr. Flynn?” one of them asked.

“Too long, or not long enough, depending on your point of view,” I laughed.

At that moment, Boris came on deck with Robert. Both of them were carrying large bundles under their arms.

“Right lads, come and line up,” Robert called. Once they were all standing ready, Robert and Boris started to undo the bundles. Inside were woollen uniforms, oilskins, jerseys, hats, and boots. It was called Navy surplus, but was actually the clothing taken from sailors as they were demobbed. “When you get uniforms that fit,” Robert explained, “I want you to get your pocket knives and cut off all the rank stripes, badges, and Royal Navy shoulder flashes. We don't want anyone saying that we're desecrating the King's uniforms or any nonsense like that!” Now they'd have something designed for the weather.

Robert was giving out more instructions. “Larry will be in charge of things. I want you to take this lot to your quarters and sort out the uniforms as close to your size as possible, especially the boots.”

Here Boris broke in. “Boots most important!” Boris said emphatically. “Last night I see boy slip. I know I said before, but boots very important!”

Robert continued, “There'll be some items left over and you'll look after them, Larry, for extra issue when anyone's clothes are too wet. All the rags that you're wearing now are to be bundled up and ready to go over the side by tomorrow. Just think of it as where you'd like to see Mr. O'Connell go.” At this the boys gave a great cheer and, picking up the bundles, headed for their quarters.

I was pleased for them. Soon they'd discover what I'd learnt years ago before I became an officer. The Navy bum-freezer with its long back collar was one of the best all-weather uniforms I knew. If you couldn't get out of the wind—as who could while a hundred feet in the air setting sails?—the flap, pulled over the top of the head and held by a cap, kept you from freezing. Besides, wool's the only thing that will keep you warm even when it's wet.

As the boys disappeared, Edward came stumbling along from the chart room. He was distracted and muttering to himself. At one point, he stopped and sniffed, looking about as if trying to find whatever he'd smelt. He turned to Boris. “This damn place smells like a bloody circus. Like a bloody zoo, it does!”

Boris pointed up at the sails. “Circus!” he agreed and nodded, grinning. Edward just growled and carried on with his walk.

After a while the boys reappeared, and what a difference! The clothes helped give them bulk, so they looked more like men than weedy children. It was the way they held themselves that really made the difference. Even though the clothes were castoffs and musty, they were real uniforms. The boys now looked like seamen on a voyage. I think this had really now come home to them. They weren't solemn in any way, but their talk was not all bright and birdlike; it had more meaning, sincerity, and seriousness about it.

Boris made a quick inspection and separated out those boys who would be a danger to themselves aloft. They were to form the deck party whenever the sails needed furling or setting. “You good boys,” he explained. “Nothing wrong with you. Just clothes and boots not fit.” No doubt he'd already begun thinking of a solution to this.

I saw that Bowman was standing near the wheel. A smile of quiet satisfaction was on his face as he saw the boys looking and acting like sailors. He had a word with one or two, glancing every now and then at his watch and compass. Suddenly Boris's bo'sun's pipe shrilled out, sending all the boys to their stations.

“Right, lads!” Bowman called out. “'Tis time to turn the yards again, but only a little. This will bring us around just a bit more to the west, and if we're lucky, we can beat along close-hauled for the next fifteen hours.”

The pipe sounded again, signalling the deck party to put their weight to the capstan bars and walk the yards round. Others on deck and aloft let out the lines cleated to the leading edges of the sails, while other boys hauled in on those to the trailing edges. With the wind abaft our port quarter, the ship continued close-hauled to keep the maximum of her wind power.

I went to speak to Edward who was in the chart room, with maps and charts spread over the big table. He always had a pipe in one hand and a map in the other. His glasses, which he wore for this, made him look rather like the mad scientist at work.